The west wind grapples with a single long-sleeved shirt
hung to dry on a line, strung between two weathered posts.
Caught in a gust, the right sleeve lifts upright,
creating the visage of an invisible man in exaggerated oration,
hoping to be heard
or a drunk hailing a taxi,
his hope dwindling.
These two human conceptions strikingly the same.
—Mitchell Hegman
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